McCafferty’s body hangs in the distance for a moment and then I seem to arrive in a rush. She is face down with a pool of drying blood under her head and around one of her shoulders. Her dark hair is spread across the light gray concrete, part of it clumped in the red pool.
“Allie!” I call, sliding on my knees beside her.
It’s important to keep moving or the shooter will be able to get a firm bead on me. I can feel the crosshairs on my back like a physical presence. Any moment, I expect to feel the solid impact and pitch forward. My mouth is dry from fear, and I can feel my heartbeat in my temples. The quick glance at her as I slide to my knees causes a sickening feeling inside.
“Allie!” I call again, grabbing for her drag handle at the back of her vest.
I rise and begin pulling her across the sidewalk by the handle. Her hair smears the puddle of blood as I drag her though it. Still no shot, but I anticipate it coming any moment. I’ll be slowed substantially pulling McCafferty to the wall. I concentrate almost solely on the next step and pulling her along; although, in the back of my mind, I spare a few thoughts for the sniper. Keep moving and don’t think about it. If I give over to thinking only about the shooter, fear will set in and it could make me freeze. There is only the next step.
McCafferty’s body rolls over as I pull her onto the grass. Her head lolls to the side, revealing her ruined throat — there just isn’t much left of it. I feel an anger building inside alongside deep sorrow. McCafferty’s body lightens and becomes easier to drag.
“Leave her, Jack. She’s dead,” I hear Lynn call as if from a distance.
Looking up, I see her by my side pulling McCafferty along with me. It’s a startling sight as I didn’t even notice her arrival. The intense adrenaline over the past few hours has caused a fog to come over my brain. I hear what she said, but it doesn’t make sense, and I keep pulling McCafferty.
“Jack! Leave her,” I hear Lynn yell again.
The fog lifts. Clarity returns. I look from Lynn to McCafferty. Hating to do it, but knowing we’ll just leave another body out here if I don’t, I release my grip on the drag handle. McCafferty’s body falls to the grass and I run alongside Lynn. We alternate pace and I feel another wave of pressure pass barely in front at shoulder level. The report of the gunshot echoes as we both turn on a burst of speed, reaching the bushes and the wall.
Panting hard, I sink to my knees and retrieve my M-4 from Robert. The stinging in my shoulder returns, having been forgotten seconds after feeling it.
“Dad,” Robert says, “you’re hit.”
“It’s nothing,” I reply and tell everybody to stay close to the wall.
Leaving McCafferty out in the open after making the rescue attempt tells it all. I see anger etched in the faces of the others, their lips drawn tight. A single tear makes a dirt-lined streak down Gonzalez’ cheek. She wipes it away, smearing dirt across her face, and glances at McCafferty. All of our hearts are filled with a deep sorrow and anger at someone who took this sweet young woman away from us.
I inch forward toward the corner of our little slice of safety. The wall is at an angle to where the shooter was last, so I should be able to get close to the corner without exposing myself. It’s important to try and get a picture of where the sniper is before we come up with a plan…yeah, there’s that word. As it is, we’re rather stuck in this position. Forward or to the side is out of the question, and into the hospital is an even worse option. I can still hear the shrieks drifting across to us from the hornet’s nest we kicked over.
“Drescoll, Jack here,” I call into the radio.
He answers a moment later, “Drescoll here, go ahead.”
“Go button plus five,” I say.
“Copy,” he replies.
Button plus five is a code for switching to a different frequency without broadcasting which channel we’ll be going to. Button is a channel briefed before an op or a daily setting and denotes what is essentially the zero channel to base settings from. So, saying button plus five means five channels above the base channel. If the base channel is seven, then button plus five is a command to go to channel twelve. If someone is scanning frequencies, they’ll find us, but there’s no use making it easier for them.
“Drescoll’s up,” he calls over the new channel.
“We have someone taking shots at us and have taken cover by the front wall of the hospital. I don’t have a clear picture of their position, but I estimate about four to five hundred yards to the south-southeast of the main entrance,” I state.
There are a few seconds of hesitation before he says, “Copy. Is anyone hit?”
I hesitate, especially knowing that he and McCafferty were, well, in lack of other terms, together. I don’t want to give out any information, but the real reason is that I don’t want to tell him at the moment. I need him clear. It’s not really that fair, but there it is. I turn to Lynn and she gives me a shrug as if to say, ‘your call.’
“We have one down. Trying to get a position on the shooter now,” I say.
“Who is it?” he asks.
“No names over the radio. You and Horace stand by to head to the sniper’s location.”
Another hesitation. “Do you want us to come up there and provide a shield with the vehicles for you to evacuate?”
I would like nothing more than to just get out of this situation. However, I want to find and hopefully capture this shooter. Just having them evacuate out of the area will leave the threat still there for some future time. I’m assuming this was an intentional act and not some deranged person who happened to come across us. That is still a possibility but, for some reason, I don’t think it is.
“Negative. Standby.”
Kneeling just before the end of the wall, I extract my signal mirror and extend it around the corner. There aren’t any bushes on that side of the building, so I can get a clear view in that direction. The small face of the mirror makes it difficult to see much, but I see a line of offices in the distance, away from and across a street from the hospital. Of course, seeing anything remotely like a person at that distance with the mirror is basically futile. I’m mostly looking for movement. I don’t see anything.
The mirror flies out of my hand, breaking into several shards. One moment it’s there and the next it’s tugged forcefully from between my fingers. The round that shattered the glass rips through a bush next to me and buries itself into the ground with a thud. The clap of a gunshot follows. Yeah, this shooter knows what they are doing and apparently has quite the zoom on their scope. The benefit is that, just before the mirror was blown from my hand, I saw a flash of light coming from on top of the two-story office buildings.
I’m actually surprised that they are still there, and that is one of the mistakes they are making — staying in one place for so long. Shoot and move should be their method of operation. I get missing and wanting your target down, but they should have been on the move.
“Drescoll. The shooter is on top of the blue two-story office buildings approximately four hundred meters to the south,” I call. “Take them alive if possible.”
Drescoll lurches forward with the Stryker, coming to a stop. Jack’s radio calls sent an icy jolt of fear down his back. He feels his heart tighten and is sick to his stomach. There is someone down and he knows Jack isn’t telling him who it is because he doesn’t want to tell him it’s Allie. Deep down, Drescoll knows it’s her, and the thought makes him want to fold up. She is the only bright light in this hell they are living in…the only thing that has given him hope. To think of her gone makes him want to sink to his knees and lose himself in grief. However, he tells himself that he doesn’t know this for sure. Actually, there is a part of him that’s upset at Jack for trying to protect him and thinking he needs to be. He would do what was needed regardless as the whole team is relying on him.